


You're Not Broken, Just Unfinished

by Latin_Lein (Lein_Honey)



Series: Bad to You [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adam is my new earth dad, Allura x happiness is the real endgame here, Altean Lance (Voltron), Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Fluff, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm hetero for Romelle so she'll be in this soon no worries, Later kinks welcome to be requested for, Long Haired Keith, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Not My Shiro, Other, PTSD, Panic Attacks, Slave Keith, Smut, a/b/o dynamics, gender fluidity, long haired lance, mentions of death and torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-04 15:39:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14023392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lein_Honey/pseuds/Latin_Lein
Summary: Lance, brother of now-Queen Allura, prince of the somehow-still-standing Altea, had never actually put too much thought into how or who or why he'd fall in love with someone. Despite having a reputation for being a flirt, he'd never thought of when he'd find The One (those words, with what they mean, needed to be capitalized).But when Allura decides to put forth the effort to be sympathetic to Galran slaves, saved and brought forth by their ally Lotor, Lance doesn't need much more time or prodding to finding The One Whom He'll Love the Most Forever.Problem is, one of the ex-slaves, badass, beautiful, sweet Keith is pretty damaged. Answer? Easy: Lance.





	1. Stomach Tied in Knots

**Author's Note:**

> So, first Voltron fic to be published. Also, im not trying to portray any of the mental-health issues portrayed here as easy to deal with or something light and breezy, because I have some of these disorders and have dealt with others. If there is some sort of problem, though, please let me know.
> 
> This is all around supposed to be a sweet klance story that's been floating around my head and a distraction from school work and other stories I'm writing.
> 
> Requests are open, but copying is not. If you wish to beta, or translate, then let me know first for permission. Otherwise, hope you enjoy.

 

   Despite the fact that they were expecting guests---slaves turned allies to their side of the long-waging war---the castle and its occupants hadn't done a whole lot in preparing for the not-many new Altean citizens.

 

   It took a while to convince their queen, Allura, Lance's older sister, to accept them, but their ally Lotor has proven himself in the past few war-riddled years that his opinion is now well worth to hear and consider. If Lotor thought that saving Galra slaves whom were, in fact, good people despite---maybe even  _because_ \---of their race, then Allura was ready to hear, even if she wasn't particular to the idea of Galras being in her castle, let alone on her planet. Lance still wasn't all too convinced that Lotor was a cool dude, but that may've just been because he was a tad jealous of how flawless his hair was. Maybe. Chances were that it wasn't the only reason, but who could ever figure that universal mystery out.

 

   Not to get confused about Lance's opinion on the matter, though; Lance wanted to help everyone he could. Lotor went through the trouble of finding out all that he could about the slaves. _Ex-slaves._ As of right now, there would only be two moving into the Castle. Their names---if Lance remembered correctly---were Thace, and Keith. 

 

   Weird names, in Lance's opinion, but that was probably a tad xenophobic. Lance probably wouldn't make all that much sense to them, he supposed. There was no point in making fun of or being just all around annoying about linguistics.

 

   Humming along to the sigh escaping him, not without a glare coming from Allura's attentive gaze, he places a tan cheek in the palm of his hand, the other twirling a few strands of his dark hair. Not as long and luxurious or alluring as Lotor's, of course, but Allura and he weren't known for just their smarts and lineage. He's rather proud of his beauty. So proud, that when he got complimented by one of the kitchen staff, Lance went right on ahead an-

 

   Lotor basically crashes through the doors to the throne room, making Coran jump---almost fall onto that big, beautiful noggin of his. His eyes immediately fall onto Allura---unsurprisingly---and despite him being half-Galra Lance wishes that they'd just get married and have, like, the most babies that they could possibly have. "My Princess." He starts, voice soft despite how winded he looks, and the whole thing makes Lance low-key want to barf. What didn't make Lance wish to vomit, though, was the sight of the two ex-Galran slaves stepping timidly behind Lotor from the large, vivid purple doors.

 

   Now, Lance had never actually put too much thought into how or who or why he'd fall in love with someone. Despite having quite the reputation for being a flirt, he'd never thought of when he'd find The One (those words, with what they meant, needed to be capitalized). Sure, he's romanticized the whole soulmate she-bang just as much as the next fellow, but that didn't mean much. It was like when a child says that they're going to live forever, or that they didn't eat the last cookie. (Although, there were, actually, some some races where the people lived forever, so _maybe_ not the best example.)(Also, some had no clue as to what a cookie was---Lance had just barely learned---so there was that, too.)

 

   But nonetheless, look-y here, that when Allura decides to put forth the effort to be sympathetic to Galran slaves---saved and brought forth by their amazing and beautiful and strong ally _Lotor_ , Lance doesn't need much more time or prodding to finding The One Whom He'll Love the Most Forever. Why, he gets who he couldn't have imagined better practically wrapped up in a care package with a note saying ' _Y_ _ou couldn't have dreamt me better, you silly dreamer, you~_ '

 

   'Course, the wrapping was actually of bruises not completely healed yet from the healing pods. Seemed like that one---everyone, actually---didn't feel safe enough here to trust their doctors. Which, yeah, Lance could see why. Post traumatic stress wasn't just a human issue. Trauma wasn't a thing one single race went through and survived.

 

   All of the ex-slaves---two, both of whom had just walked in, ears close to their skulls, eyes downward, whole demeanor screaming traumatized and yet curious; hopeful---had been washed, though, and were wearing robes that Lance had picked out himself. He'd made sure, even if these people proved themselves to be untrustworthy, that at least they knew what they'd be missing because of their actions---the softest of materials, with the slightest, yet most comforting, of scents. Lance didn't see why that couldn't be his own way of a win-win; either his worst nightmare of a revenge, or the start of a beautiful, new life.

 

   "These are our new citizens, my Queen and Prince," Lotor starts, arm moving to point out the two newcomer's presence---as if it were absolutely necessary, "Keith and Thace. They come wishing for work and peace only, so I beg of you, my Queen," Lotor takes a step forward, gaze stuck in a lock with Allura's and his expression is so earnest, so honest. It's clear that he wishes to help, that he truly believes in this cause. Lotor looks, he sounds, close to begging. "Please, consider helping them get back on their way. They're just like you and I. You and Prince Lance."

 

   Lotor takes a moment to look at Lance, as if he could help Lotor in this situation. Lance can be empathetic; he agreed in the beginning to help these two. What little records they were able to come up with showed how useful they could be towards their cause. Even then, Lance would've agreed if they hadn't been. But, sadly, Allura wasn't all too fond of letting Lance speak his mind. She was still... quite bitter about what had gone on between Lance and their father, when he'd been alive. 

 

   Nonetheless, Lance nodded towards Keith and Thace, silently wondering in the back of his mind if the pretty one was named Keith or Thace.

 

   Lotor nodded back, and despite all previous conversations, he seemed to realize that in these instances that concerned Galra's in need, Lance would probably be the most willing to help. 

 

   "I shall... lead them to their rooms, now." Lotor announces, sounding disappointed still, and Lance can't help but to notice that the two seemed to ease up once they heard that news. 

 

   "Will you two be joining us for dinner?" Lance can't help but to voice. He hadn't thought it through---he can feel Allura's displeased glare like a thousand needles jabbing his very being, can see plainly Lotor's rather happy gaze. He isn't sure if they'll respond, or if they do, if it'll be directly to him or through Lotor, but nonetheless, he knows he wants them to agree. Hopes, but he'll understand if they decline. 

 

   The two look up at him at his question, the pretty one's ears swiveling around like a flower chasing its source of life. The other one shares his wonderment by the twitches in his tail. Their reactions are quite cute, but he isn't sure if he should say that, as well. He isn't sure what to say or do at all---Lance has never been in this type of situation, what with his father shielding his sister and him from these types of experiences. 

 

   He wishes, now, that he hadn't been so overprotective when it came to these points in life. He wishes that he himself hadn't accepted being treated that way.

 

   "Dinner?" The taller Galra asks, going so far as to point at Lance in confusion. "W-with... you?" The poor dear looks almost ready to be beaten when they realize that they've spoken aloud. The pretty one seems ready to deal with uncertain---certainly, to Lance, not going to happen---consequences. 

 

   "And Lotor." Lance wouldn't force Allura into a corner. Despite agreeing to this, and now her attitude, Lance could understand what she was going through. "As a way to get to know you, and to welcome you. I don't wish for you to feel isolated, or that Lotor is the only one here for you two. Queen Allura doesn't, either."

 

   Lance smiles softly, tilting his head ever so softly. "You don't need to fear us, or be wary. Now that you're in Altea, you shall be treated as you should've been all along.

 

   "As equals. Like living people. No longer slaves."

 

* * *

 

 

   "Lance," Allura's voice carries out through his room. While not shocking to hear, it is rather odd for your sibling to barge into your room unannounced while you are admist changing. 

 

   Well, not surprising, per se-

 

   "Lance!" Allura calls out once again, maybe more, sounding angrier than before. "Are you even listening to me?"

 

   "Yes, my Queen." Lance bites out, grumbling as he finishes dressing for the dinner that shall happen in a few moments. He rolls his eyes before leaving the comfort of his small yet beautiful and useful room divider. Seeing his sister's irritated form, Lance began to peel back the layers of anger and unwillingness to help from just across the room, using his empathy and whatever else, to see despair and confusion and so many complex emotions that he even began to feel a little overwhelmed as well. He was overwhelmed, actually. Not nearly as much as his sister-turned-Queen, but he felt quite the amount of stress, too. 

 

   Perhaps that was why Allura went to him for help and comfort so much; not because they both were siblings and best friends, but because he was her confidant. Her helper, someone who was there for her, the closest one---other than Coran---who could understand her pain. 

 

   "'Llura," Lance smiles, small but still meaningful, bringing his arms out. He can tell that Allura is running on fumes, and the last thing she needs right now is for them to fight. Lance hates fighting, especially with his sister. "Come here, silly girl."

 

   Allura seems to question the contact for a moment, but the feeling of comfort wafting from Lance to her is too much to ignore. Besides, who could ignore their little brother's warm embrace? Who'd want to say ' _no_ ' to _that_ face? Lance was irresistible.

 

   The hug is long. The hug is warm, and it's soft, and it's loving and meaningful, saying so many things without either of them opening their mouths. 

 

   Lance wouldn't trade it for the world, but noticing the time quickly approaching to when he's supposed to meet the others for dinner, he lets his sister go. With the promise of later details and an even later mini-spa sibling date, Lance leaves with a heavy heart and a full stomach.

 

   Stomach full of nervousness or something else, Lance isn't sure he knows. He isn't sure he really wants to know, but the feeling wiggles itself around in the back of his mind, on the tip of his tongue. What it is exactly is on the cusp of being recognized, he knows somewhat, but not enough.

 

   He just needs more time to settle and understand. To be aware of what is going on in his own mind and heart.

 

* * *

 

 

   "We truly are sorry, Your Highness, that he didn't show up," Lotor continues to apologize. Despite being fair and gallant, Lance can't actually recall a time that Lotor apologized and winced this many times. 

 

   Lance waves a hand, somehow gracefully not making the sauce dripping from his---what Hunk had called a ' _spork_ '---mark the table below them. A smile sent to the two Galra's, and saying in an understanding tone, "It's no trouble. If anything, I can surely grasp onto why Keith wouldn't arrive. I probably wouldn't either. Let's just save the food for him when he's ready to eat," and then dinner was saved.

 

   Honestly, why Allura hadn't appointed him to speak on behalf of others was beyond him. 

 

   It was, though, heartbreaking that Keith ( _Keith_ , Lance wishes that he could sigh dreamily while looking out from his balcony. What a dreamy name for a dreamy boy) felt that he couldn't be able to comfortably handle a dinner with Lance. He seemed capable enough with Thace and Lotor around, but perhaps that was it; with Thace and Lotor around. Not Lance. Not Allura, or Coran, or anyone else. 

 

   It was also disappointing, but that was a whole other personal matter that was most likely--- _more_ _than_ likely---completely on Lance's side. Lance wishes to help him. He wants to get to know everything about Keith, both the bad and the good. The depressed and traumatized and the healthy and happy. 

 

   He can settle for this, though. Lance can settle for helping to take care of Keith, and Thace, from behind the scenes. Just because Keith didn't wish to see him, didn't mean Lance didn't have to help them. 

 

   He'd do everything he could to do so.


	2. Green and Murky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Immense apologies for how late of an update this is, but hey, season 7 is gonna be here real soon, so yay!!  
> I was hoping to make either Lance or Keith have adhd, but since I'm not diagnosed with it, and my cousin who is isn't comfortable talking about it, I was hoping someone could give me some day-to-day insight on what it's like? Just anything to help build them up as characters in this would be nice

 

   "You can't just do that, Keith!" Thace whisper-shouts. If you could even call it that, Thace wasn't one to ever raise his voice, let alone to a friend. But Keith can tell he crossed a line, that he, in a way, betrayed their trust. Keith agreed to live with Altea's royalty under their and Lotor's protection on the balance that would be they'd help them in the fight against the Galra. 

 

   The Galra whom Keith, Thace and Lotor were related to. Fighting against their own race, and yet it seemed, when they'd sort of met the Queen, that she was totally unsympathetic. Of course, Keith has heard the rumors about her late father's end by Lord Zarkon's hand, but surely she should've learnt by now---since the looks between her and Lotor seemed more than just friendly, geez, even Keith could see it---that you couldn't judge someone based off of their race. It was like if Keith were to think Queen Allura wasn't a stable leader because of her gender or something else completely and utterly ridiculous. Perhaps she just wasn't having the bestest of days? She was new to the whole ruling-a-whole-empire shindig.

 

   Keith tried to be as sympathetic as he could possibly be, but sympathy was what sort of brought him to this point; an ex-slave turned sort-of-weapon. He knew what Lotor had said to gain Queen Allura's acceptance. That Thace and he would be her spies, her soldiers in the war, while she just planned out missions and kissed politician's asses. Not something Keith would've been okay with, but perhaps it was better than getting beaten every other whatever time period Thace and Keith and all the others were abused. 

 

   Well, again, Keith shouldn't be so unsympathetic. The fact that he had to keep telling himself to be so really hit him where it hurt. Having to feel old and new scars, indents and marks and bruises and other visual signs of pain which made him realize that there were always two sides to every story. At the very least, it seemed the Queen's brother would be the most likely of the royal family to be kind to them. Which made him feel more guilty; just leaving him hanging. Not that Keith would've been the life of the party or anything.

 

   "Do you understand, Keith?" Thace goes on, probably have been going on a whole rant while Keith had zoned out. 

 

   Keith brings gold and purple eyes up towards his long-time friend. He can see, more than anything else---basically everything he was feeling, really---was that Thace was terrified. Not only for himself, but for Keith as well. They'd known each other since before the two of them were captured. Being held captive for who knows how long together would bring people close to each other, and Keith held the truth in his grasp. Thace and he were inseparable. If Thace felt something was a good thing to grasp, Keith would reach out with both hands. And if Thace thought something was afoot, Keith listened to him.

 

   Which is what he should've probably been doing, both of those things.

 

   "I do," he whispers. For a long time, Keith had been stubborn and strong, fighting back against their abusers. But eventually, he felt the fight, that life inside of him that was bright like a flame, die out. His spirit being crushed, Keith gave in to the beatings and no longer screamed and growled and tried to hurt the Druids and guards back; instead whispering and keeping his head down, only sign of rebellion being that he kept his mouth shut and didn't make a sound, even when the pain was unbearable. 

 

   He couldn't break the habit, but if what Lotor, and Prince Lance, said was true, Keith could grow to be just as strong---if not stronger---than he was before he had all of these battle scars. Maybe Keith could learn, once again, what trust in more than one person felt like. 

 

   "Keith," Thace tilts his head. There was a time when physical contact between them was a thing. A hand to the shoulder, an arm wrapped around their shoulders when hurt on missions. Now, they could barely handle looking at each other. It sometimes pained Keith more than the aches of no longer getting whipped or kicked. "You have to---just..."

 

   Thace looks down for a moment, teeth biting harshly at the inside of his cheek, indents showing. He too couldn't get ahold of the fact that they would no longer be slaves, which was sort of painful to know more than the trauma itself. "I need you to think more about yourself, now."

 

   "What do you mean?" Keith starts to stand up from his perch on the table by the large windows in his room---that's right, _his_ room. "What does 'think about yourself' _mean?_ " He starts to whisper-shout now. 

 

   "It _means_ ," Thace's eyebrows furrow, though he looks more angry at himself than at Keith, "that you to learn how to find trust in others. It shall be hard, and it will take a long time, but we can no longer use our pasts as an excuse for our actions. We will just be playing into the Queen's ideas of us being not worthy of our places, and I'm not sure exactly on how you feel about this, but I'd like to stay here. 

 

   "Look around," Thace brings a slow and open hand up, making gestures to what's surrounding them. "Don't you see? This is what is normal on this planet. This is what a home feels like. There are fights, but there are also love and support. Even as the Queen and Prince argue, they stand on the same side, they continue to love one another. How can we give this up because we don't know if we miss what used to happen to us?"

 

   Keith stares at the older Galra for a long time. That was probably the most he's heard from him in... Since before they were captured. Thace was not a talkative person, neither was Keith really, and yet here he was, speaking out like a leader. Like someone Keith has known could be trusted. "Are you saying you trust them?" Keith finally asks. His voice is still rusty from the lack of use. It brings back a little of that angry, passionate flame once more. Just a little.

 

   "I'm saying that we should keep our eyes open. For signs of inequality, and for us to stay. If this is a trap, it's a trap I don't mind sticking in for the time being."

 

   "You've become quite the masochist."

 

   Thace only cracks a small smile, but that and the light in his eyes makes Keith wonder if they could actually make it here. 

 

   If maybe he should apologize to Lotor. And the Prince.

 

* * *

 

    He often wonders how his mother met her end, as powerful as she was. How Ulaz was---where he was, how he ended up. Whether or not he'd ever see his sister once again.

 

   There were others, like Thace and he, who were Galra and were actually peaceful when out of battling their own kind. It was hard, at first, both the deaths of his mother and those he's killed, the guilt and remorse. 

 

   There were also the other Blade members. His father, how his mother's own sister killed her lover, the father of her children. He remembers seeing her being driven to the brink of insanity more than he does any embraces being shared growing up between those in his home, and yet with everything that has gone on in his view point of the universe, nothing compared to seeing their friend Shiro being taken away---drugged, chained and changed in so many ways---that last time. It still haunts Keith, yet he doubts that it hadn't happened all that long ago. 

 

   It was what mostly kept Keith up right now. Sure, the pain of what he's gone through---emotionally and physically---were quiet yet prominent reasons, but it was often another's pain that made Keith feel the most awful. He felt every snap of Shiro's bones, every tear in his muscles, every cry coming from his skin and brain and heart and throat. It's made him wake up from what sleep he could manage in sweat and a sore throat from groaning in pain---the most he can manage nowadays. 

 

   He feels the need to get up, to move around and explore and seek and find. Though, the thought of getting in trouble, of getting  _caught_ , frightens him. He hates to admit it, even to himself, but what has happened to him will probably never be truly overlooked or be capable of moving past. Of course, he could find ways to cope with what he has dealt with and what he'll surely have to now and in the future, but as of this very moment Keith had to worry about whether or not Thace and he were being watched. 

 

   After another shower and Lotor delivering his dinner and a personal message from the Prince himself to simple, little Keith (' _don't worry about tonight or any night, worry about yourself for now on_ '), Keith had a bit of a hard time adjusting to the idea of sleeping in a room alone, especially without Thace. Not knowing his exact place, not hearing his soft, raspy breaths? Not knowing if he was sleeping on his back? If he was at all safe? Yeah, no, not something Keith was cool with. The message was nice, though. Appreciated, but not followed through.

 

   Turning over once again in the big bed, he's happy to have Thace by his side---a few meters apart, fucking huge ass bed, but by his side nonetheless. He's rather surprised to see that Thace is still asleep, what with all of Keith's racket, but he can admit that this is probably---definitely---the most relaxed either of them has ever felt since before they were captured. Probably. Possibly, Keith's never felt this much at peace since... since...

 

   Perhaps _'_ at peace' isn't the exact phrase that would accurately describe how he feels, but it's the safest and closest he's felt to those words and their meaning in possibly all of his life. Not much of his childhood is a thing he can look back on without confusion clouding his memories. Without either a cringe or a scrunch of his nose, the space between his eyebrows and around his multi-coloured eyes wrinkling because of confusion, because why can't he remember? Why can't he remember any of what has happened growing up, yet he remembers basically every moment of being a slave?

 

   It's sad---his life is sad. This whole universe is sad, really. 

 

   He turns once more around in bed. His eyes catch on to the sight of the three moons of Altea---one big, the other two smaller, each the same size, all the colour of what he recognizes it to be as lavender, though the teal tints throw him off of that idea. It's beautiful, really, truly, but he misses the sight of stars. Keith misses seeing the sunrise and set. Keith misses looking up and feeling more small and alone yet close and familiar than he's ever felt with another person. 

 

   He falls asleep feeling melancholic instead of painfully numb. 

 

* * *

 

 

   Thace doesn't bother trying to get him to come down for breakfast, being more aware of the fact that Keith does feel things, despite what his outer expressions may say, those things being more than just new-kid jitters. Thace does try and succeed in getting him to get cleaned up, checked out by the castle's most trusted physician, and into another pair of new clothes. Clothes that make Keith feel slightly uncomfortable with how comfy and surely expensive they were, though Keith has to keep reminding himself that on Altea, there wasn't capitalism---equality wasn't only achieved, it was the norm.

 

   Keith stays in what is unofficially but surely now Thace and his room, sitting out on the table atop their balcony, which overlooks the castle's biggest and most well-known garden. It appears that if you were in the castle, this garden was where you'd most likely be should you be outside. It was beautiful, no doubt, and Keith was as much a people-watcher as the next person, but the amount of people here was making his anxiety act up. It makes him feel queasy, nauseous in an old yet all too familiar way.

 

   He gets up, slowly and with an ache forming from deep in his chest into every atom making up his very being. He wobbles into the attached bathroom, barely making it through the doorway before he retches onto the light blue-off white floor.

 

   It's full of an awful stench, and the acid that used to be inside of his stomach isn't that enjoyable, either, but Keith can't help but to be a little happy about this. If you could even call this feeling happiness; Keith doubts it, but that's not the point. Said point being that he finally had something in his stomach _to_ barf up, and he hadn't been as full as he has since way before he was captured. 

 

   He can see pieces of what had been considered meat on this planet but what had to have been honeydew. Can see Altean-water, and some sort of Altean-grain. See the usual grossness of throw up. 

 

   He groans, starting to continue barfing. It's a couple more minutes of this before he's finished, but then he also has to clean it up and himself; like he'd ask someone else to. It sucks, but by then end of it, when he's back in the shower and cleaning himself off, and for once, quite proud of himself. 

 

   He's on the road to recovery, now, right?

 

* * *

 

 

   He stays in his room until the second sun rises, but Keith doesn't think that it's been that long of a duration, considering how Altea has six suns and how much time it takes for one to go from horizon to sky. 

 

   As much as he'd like to continue to think like a common Earth poet, he knows, though, that eventually he'll have to make an appearance to someone other than Thace. He should be trying to find and help rescue not only the other Galran slaves, but slaves the Galra have captured as a whole. Keith feels guilt and shame and even disgust rise from deep in his waist travel up into his mouth, thick in his throat and on his tongue because _how dare he_ cry and bitch when he's _safe now_. He's okay, and so is Thace, and both Prince Lotor and Prince Lance wish to help them. 

 

   He tries to catch his breath, Keith becoming winded from his own self. Shaking his head, hair ends and ears wiping across his face a little, making him smell the now more insistent scent of the soaps and oils the pretty dark-skinned prince had gifted Thace and he. 

 

   It felt like no matter what, Prince Lance kept returning back to his mind. He wasn't stupid---Keith was fully aware of how attractive the male was. Who _couldn't_ see it? Keith knew better, though. Keith knew he shouldn't drag another person into his bullshit. There was a difference between finding an ally in a war and making someone feel like they were someone another was completely dependent on because they were incredibly fucked in the head. Keith knew better. 

 

   He also knew that Prince Lance wouldn't ever even be interested in him that way. It's not like Keith thinks that he's ugly, but he doesn't think their beauty average is even close to being equal, and he isn't intriguing in a positive way. More like becoming a slave wasn't even the first horrifying thing to have happened in his life. Like, his abandonment issues weren't the only issues he possessed.

 

   Going to the sink-like part of the washing room, Keith splashes---more like drenches---his face in the Altean equivalent of water. It was almost leafy; as in like murky, greenish-clear fluid that was sort of thick and had bits of forest green stuff that was as close to Earth leaves as Keith has seen since he was...

 

   What age had he been when his mother had taken him and his sister from his father's slain body and into the Blade of Marmora? 

 

   Splashing more of the as-if-blood-oranges-and-mint-fucked-and-had-a-kid scented slush onto his face and some in his hair, Keith shakes his head like his old dog would. He misses her. Sure, when she shat on his hippo plush twice and spread her fur all over the carpet and furniture in his childhood home (a shack in the desert of Earth), Keith wasn't all too fond of the Labrador-German Shepherd mix. But even the hardest of hearts couldn't have resisted her doggy smile and cute sneezes. 

 

   He isn't sure if it's the not-water or tears that are falling down his cheeks, but the emotions pouring out of his pores seemingly make him think that in the end, it doesn't really matter when he still feels like it would never end. 

 

   What would never end---the emotions, the repeated motions of a battered person. The thoughts. The mannerisms of just who he is, who he's always been and now who he'll probably forever be---Keith isn't sure, but how he roughly wipes the moisture off of his lavender-porcelain skin?

 

   That would surely never end. The self hatred and disgust.

 

* * *

 

 

   Lance gets the feeling that something is going wrong somewhere in the castle he calls home, but isn't sure if it's a do-now situation or a let-it-play-out one. Allura has been trying to instill the knowledge and intuition of knowing the difference and how to deal with each, should a horrible thing occur and then Lance is in charge. 

 

   Something that would surely enrage a number of people both a citizen of Altea and not, considering his heritage and beliefs. But, that wasn't, and hopefully would never be, the problem at hand. 

 

   Lance isn't sure if it was his meeting (if you could call it that) with Keith, or a perfectly-timed coincidence, but Lance has been feeling many more emotions and related things as of late. Perhaps it was just him being so empathetic, which was a part of his genes, or maybe he's just been growing more mature and now he's sort of dealing with the consequences, but it's kind of a lot to take in and he isn't quite sure how to handle it. He isn't sure if it's a good thing or not, either.

 

   Most Alteans---who are usually full-blooded Altean---don't have as wide of a range of emotions as some other species of peoples in the universe. Humans, for example, have so many that sometimes they gain in some way a disorder from them. Balmerans, while they don't have as many varied feelings, do have deep and residing ones that if they are negative could actually kill them from just the hormones themself. 

 

   Alteans aren't like that. They aren't emotionless or something of that sort, but they don't ever get the way Lance does if they were _just_ Altean. But Lance, along with most everyone else, knows that he's like that because he is only half Altean. 

 

   He sighs, hand that is holding his cheek slipping slightly, his elbow also slipping on the top of his desk where some of his work lies before him, unfinished and barely touched. His body suddenly jumps, heart racing, blood a'pumping as if something horribly wrong has occurred and his very being has gone through shock. It's quite disturbing, the emotions that he knows that _aren't_ his own that runs through his bloodstream seemingly. 

 

   He gets out of his chair, so quickly that it falls onto the plush floor, but in his hurry he doesn't do a thing about it. He runs out of his room, and though knowing it's a rule, he does the same down the hall and towards Coran's lab. Around this time, it should just be the ginger-haired gentleman, which is good if this isn't something that will become a tragic worry. Because that's all Lance needs---some sort of new trial to best him. 

 

   Skidding to a stop, ignoring the looks and comments on the way, Lance reaches the door and makes his way through. Coran jumps at the sudden appearance of the tan boy, smile there then slipping off slowly and awkwardly when he realizes something is afoot.

 

   "Whatever is the matter, Prince Lance?" Coran almost screams, making the younger glad that the door automatically shut after he had walked through the doorway. 

 

   He breathes in deep before gulping down a mouthful of saliva---gross, on so many levels. "I don't know what the matter is," he starts, voice wavering and yet still carrying itself out through the room. Like a leader, his father would say. It's still bitter to him to think about, so he goes on before the stretch of silence is too much for the older Altean male. "I don't know," he repeats, "but I need your help figuring out what it is, and I want _only_ you to know for now."

 

   "Well, my Prince-"

 

   "No!" Lance interrupts. He frowns, brows furrowing as guilt washes over him---it feels like his own, and yet still not---but goes forth. "No, only you. Allura has enough to deal with now, and I doubt that this is something threatening. I'm sure that we're both aware that I'd know," he states. He can see the small flinch Coran does, internally doing the same. But his mother had said once that the past is the past, and the best thing you could do is realize your mistakes and strive to do better.

 

   This is better.

 

   "Please, Coran." Lance tries again; softer, this time, trying to show Coran how important this and what he's trying to imply is to him. Trying to show these emotions that Coran would probably never understand, but both of them wanting him too.

 

   If only Coran was like him, Lance can't help but to silently wish. Knowing that Coran wouldn't understand this want either, yet wanting him to at least catch a glimpse as to what he went through alone constantly.

 

   Coran's eyebrows furrow, but he doesn't appear mad. A little disappointed but the most understanding he can manage is what is sparkling in his quite beautiful eyes. "Alright, Prince Lance."

 

   "Thank you, Coran." He smiles softly, stepping forward. "I'm so sorry to trouble you again, though. I feel like I do this seemingly every movement," Lance tries to joke. 

 

   Coran seems to catch on to what he's trying to do, matching his smile, then raising it tenfold. "Ah, my young lordship, it's no trouble at all! I rather enjoy your company."

 

   "I like spending time with you too, Coran." Lance smiles. In the back of his mind, as he and the elder Altean get ready to test him for whatever is ailing him, he can't help but to wonder about Thace and Keith and Lotor and his older sister. 

 

   Can't help but to wonder once again if perhaps it is Keith that is the cause of all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of times I've written the word 'captured' in this is disturbing honestly. Why can't we have a nice, cute, truly diverse space opera??
> 
> Anyways, if Keith's thoughts and the way he acts is a bit frazzled, that's on purpose. I'm trying to make him not have a one track mind, because he just got saved from being a slave, and I doubt seriously anyone would have a clear cut thought process after explicit trauma, no offense of course. I also want to make him have some sort of social anxiety-esque illness; chronic, not from what Thace and he have gone through. 
> 
> Before I make these notes too long, let me just point out the obvious by saying that recommendations are more than welcome on this and any other work, already written and/or finished or not! Comments are also appreciated as well.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be relatively short, but will be in a series for this au, just fyi. I may or may not make this series two different stories, but I'm not sure as of yet...
> 
> Also, I was going to keep the 'Nudity' tag, but with the smut one, it seems rather silly to do so.
> 
> Requests for this and other stories are open. Any tips or wishes are helpful, as well.
> 
> If for some reason any of my works are under any different names than my own three usernames on any other website/account needs to be reported and have me notified immediately, please and thank you.


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